Over There and Back Again
by nanu107
Summary: A sorcerer's tale.  Little snippets of how Balthazar spend those thousand years traveling.
1. Chapter 1

**Remembrance**

Prompt 078: Betrayal

Balthazar had been having a horrible day.

Rotten was a better way of describing it actually; and when he'd expected things to get better they only grew worse. Unwilling to remember all those horrible things that had happened to him through the day he only resumed with the day's ending: Horvath had decided to attack him. They were currently fighting under the rain, using spells, weapons and fists when needed. Evenly matched and with little to loose, both masters just exchanged blows and attack spells, growling sassy remarks and witty comebacks.

The battle had been going on for hours now. Each too proud to let go and finish it already, and each too fueled with anger and hatred for the other to let it stop.

"Eat dust Balthazar!" Cried Horvath, jumping the other man and slamming Balthazar's face on the ground of the large garden. Balthazar, angrily, fought and was able to escape Horvath's grip; twisted the man's arm and gained the upper hand (forgive the pun).

"You eat the mud, old man!" And Balthazar returned the favor, pushing Horvath's face on the muddy terrain.

Magic got in the mix in several bizarre and up to some point ridiculous spells. Plasma bolts were thrown and missed, knives were lost, small magical items tear off clothes, fingers… Almost anything that might happen happened and by the time the big thunderstorm arrived they were both panting, staring murderously at each other.

"Just give me the Grimhold and its over." Warned Horvath dropped against the brick wall, too tired to move.

"Why don't you come get it?" Asked Balthazar, across from him, leaning against the thick trunk of a tree. Neither moved, just taking several deep breath and feeling their bodies.

They were both getting old.

The rain thickened and they continued to glare at each other, until Horvath tried a last trick. His cane took a dangerous glow, Balthazar narrowed his eyes and when the plasma bolt that was supposed to knock him unconscious left Horvath's hand attempted to reach him Balthazar lifted his hand and pushed it right back at the man. Horvath was pushed hard against the brick wall making it shatter and fall. Horvath moved away, clumsily and landed near Balthazar, as the wall fell. A party was revealed, and who in Merlin's name held a party in this weather, Balthazar never asked. But he took the rare opportunity and climbed over Horvath's body, his grip on the knife he always carried failing and sending it flying to the nearest fence.

He groaned, another thing gone wrong, and settled with his fists. Horvath groaned, when the first punch landed on his face, and tried to defend himself. But Balthazar just struggled with him and pushed his hands down. Another punch landed and Balthazar kept hitting him, hoping he would be brain death by the time he was done unleashing his anger against the man.

"If you!" He punctuated with a good punch, as the people of the party noticed him. "If you! Hadn't! Betrayed us! We wouldn't! Be! Here!" His words were fueled with anger, his movements hard and painful in whatever upper body part he could connect with. His punches were hard, but erratic, and Horvath if did try to defend himself Balthazar was far too gone to notice. He might have said something else, he might have sobbed or cried too, but he couldn't be sure. The men at the party hurried around them and pulled Balthazar off Horvath, saying something on their native language (Balthazar will make sure to learn Italian after this particular event) as the blue eyed sorcerer was pulled away and Horvath was nursed.

Kicking and screaming Balthazar was dragged away, staring at how Horvath just smirked through his bloody lips.

For some reason the simple smirk only made Balthazar angrier.

For now Horvath won the round, even when Balthazar had the upper hand and less blows or injuries. Balthazar spent two weeks in jail for that, and only two weeks because he escaped and returned two hundred years later, when the smoke had blow out, and found who would turn out to be the most exceptional artists of the age. None turned out to be the Prime Merlinian.

"Your face… got a pretty good… reconstructive surgery!" He growled at Horvath, having him pinned down and remembering the particular event. He'd pinned Horvath down again, rain was falling, again, and there was a party (although this time no one had noticed them) going on again. "They made your face better than it really was."

Horvath, who was holding the upper hand over Balthazar this time, just smirked and used a spell to push Balthazar off. The Merlinian fell against a wall, and the wall crumbled around him. "Unlike you I don't believe in Botox." And Horvath stood, fixing is messy clothing. Balthazar stood, ignoring the dust and messy clothes he wore, and they exchanged glares. "It's useless don't you think Balthazar? We are too evenly matched to continue this senseless fighting."

"Well, I stand by my belief…"

"Yes, yes. The whole _you-betray-me-you-pay_ thing. Do you really believe I was the one who betrayed you?"

"No." That got Horvath to frown. "I now _know_ you did betray us and those around you. How can anyone trust you after sucking Drake and Abigail's power?"

Horvath smirked, that little smirk Balthazar so much hated, and put on his hat. Balthazar had touched a fiber, he could read his former best friend like a book still, and probably Horvath could say the same thing. Horvath turned to leave, a silent truce having been reached and Balthazar stood up straight.

"You are alone, Horvath."

"Unlike you Balthazar, I don't need anyone to live by." And he walked into shadows, vanishing. Balthazar stood there for a few minutes, swallowing hard. He now believed many things; he believed in the power of good over evil, the power of love over hate, the power of possibility over negativity…

"You are a horrible liar Horvath."

But he also believed that he was wholly and completely guilty for what was happening to Horvath. He'd betrayed Horvath's trust, stolen his love and married her even when he'd declared nothing would separate them. He indeed was the betrayer. Lowering his eyes Balthazar asked for forgiveness one more time, and asked for some sort of redemption for Horvath, no matter how small the possibility he wanted to see Horvath out of the magic evil Morganians represented and back as a sorcerer of better caliber. Taking a deep breath he heard his companions arriving at ht small garden and smiled when Veronica made her way through the broken down wall.

"Balthazar? Are you aright?"

"Yes, fine. Fine."

"Where's Horvath?" Asked Dave, looking around as Veronica shook her head at her husband, almost as if scolding him. But Balthazar just turned away from her, not wishing to meet her eyes.

"He got away."

"You let him go." Corrected Veronica, making Balthazar smile.

"Man, you can't let him go every time! We've got to bring him down!" Said Dave, angrily, as Becky finally catch up with them panting. Balthazar gave a sad smile and looked down at his hand. He had managed to hurt Horvath, and he knew that until the other sorcerer healed no more fighting will issue.

"Calm down Dave. Is not like I like him." And with that Balthazar limped away.

In reality he didn't liked Horvath.

He just appreciated the years they shared as best friends and brothers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Over There and Back Again**

**A Sorcerer's Tale**

Prompt 024: Hot Dog

**Dinner Companion**

He'd been having a lousy day. There had been two Morganian attacks in the park, one to a possible minor that could/could not have been the prime Merlinian and Balthazar had witnessed and been involved in both. Of course his part had been easy to identify: he was trying to help the child. But then he tested the boy and nothing, not the Prime Merlinian but now a very scared eight year old who could speak seven languages fluidly and without having taken any class. Balthazar apologized for the inconveniences, and then headed to the park.

But the park had been turned into a big circus and there was no piece and quiet.

But there were some killer food stands. His magic had started to cannibalize his body, because as expected he wasn't taking good care of himself, and had to eat to make up for all the lost fat and muscle mass. Balthazar had bought a lot of things to eat, all of it junk food, but specially hot dogs. There were at least seven hot dog stands, all specialized in some sort of topping for the hot dogs, or buns… or just selling good hot dogs. There were chili dogs, New York style dogs, fried dogs, you name it they had it.

So Balthazar bought a bit of everything, and finding an empty bench started to eat. He was just staring forward at nothing and eating. Some people stared at him, calling him weirdo under their breaths, but kept walking. Balthazar knew he was a weirdo; he'd been born a thousand years (give or take) ago, he'd watched kingdoms rise and fall, he'd been searching for a boy or girl through the entire world…

A scream tore through he crowd making Balthazar turn. He was munching on glazed almonds when he saw it. "Oh great." He murmured as a large crowd hurried away from t eh beast running amok the festivities. A huge black panther was roaring across the long line of snack stands, it's black fur shinning against the moving lights of the carnival's cars. It looked about itself, as if searching, when it noticed and locked eyes with Balthazar. To the sorcerer's surprise they shared the same eye color.

The panther growled towards him, apparently sensing Balthazar's magical abilities, and Balthazar remained very still not blinking in caution; it could believe he'd given up. Well he sure hoped it just hurried away from him because his eyes were starting to feel dry.

No such luck.

When the police started to ask questions around Balthazar was still sitting in the same bench, munching at some sweet popcorn. An officer was standing over him, asking him if he'd seen what had happened with the loose panther.

"I'm sorry officer, I just got here." The cop nodded.

"You know you can't sleep here, don't you?" Said the young man making Balthazar smile. He had no idea why people always thought he was a vagabond searching for somewhere to sleep, buy a bottle of any kind of rum or just begging for food. Maybe it was the old coat. Balthazar just smiled, playing along.

"Yes, sir I just needed somewhere to eat." The officer nodded as Balthazar finished his last hot dog, and sipped his warm drink, the sensation of its warmth made Balthazar look down at his drink, disgusted. The cop nodded, glad the man had understood and closed the small notebook he carried. "We'll be leaving as soon as we are done."

"Good." Then the cup leaned and petted the eating kitty beside Balthazar. "Cute kitten, you found him?"

"Actually he found me." said Balthazar with a smile petting the kitten.

"Weir color thought, completely black." And with that the officer retired. The kitten was eating the other chili dog, apparently starved, and Balthazar nuzzled its head watching it as it ate. The park had cleared, festivities over for the night, and there only people around were him and the keepers of the food stands. Balthazar started to put every package into the trash can beside the bench, and then sipped his warm drink again and threw it out again.

"Are you done?" He asked the cat, that was licking its paws as if nothing had happened, never leaving his side. Balthazar lifted the little paper plate, finding half the bun and napkin, and also threw it out. "And they say no one can pull a joke to this cops." He mused out loud, feeling the cat crawl over his lap and curl. Balthazar looked down and looked at the small cat cleaning it's paws. "We should put you back where you belong, little fellow."

It mewled at Balthazar, rubbing the top of its head against the sorcerer's chin. "No, I can not keep you. You are cute and all but I can't feed you. The amount of meat you eat in a day equals the amount of meat I eat in a year." It mewled, responding to his words and then began to purr. "I'm sure you'll be happier here." It mewled again, with the indignity of it all and got over one of Balthazar's knees, staring at the man. "Well of course you'll be happier home, but what can I do about it?"

The cat just stared at him.

"I am not taking you to the jungle." Warned Balthazar, while the cat continued to stare at him. "Alright, fine, I'll take you to the jungle only because I have to travel to Tibet and check out this new Dalai Lama guy." Balthazar said his hand sliding around the baby panther's belly. "Can you believe he's the fourteen Dalai Lama? I remember when I first got to Tibet they were still trying to select the third. Boy did you eat too much; I just hope you can digest chili because I sure can't." The cat mewled, enjoying freedom in Balthazar's hand.

During the trip the little panther crawled around the Grimhold, purring as it guarded the magical doll. Balthazar watched it for a while, wondering if deep inside Veronica could feel its soft warm fur. The thought alone comforted him.

Balthazar got home earlier than expected. Veronica was still trying to figure out how to turn on the large desktop computer, when his whistling made her turn in surprise. Balthazar usually whistles only when in a very extremely happy mood. It was very rare, so she watched him come in from the stairs, smiling.

"Hello beloved." He said stopping his whistling, only to set a large box over the nearby table. "I've got a gift for you."

"Oh?" Veronica stood smiling as she walked towards her husband. She wasn't really used to people giving her things, but her husband had been showering her with gifts since her return to him and she was growing spoiled really quickly. Balthazar smiled, opened the box and reached in. "Oh Balthazar is the cutest little thing!"

The little black kitten mewled at Veronica, looking scared. But when Veronica reached for it the kitten grew calm, mewling against her pale skin. Balthazar nodded, kissed his wife and smiled.

Yep, just as he thought; Veronica's pet should be black it complimented her pale skin.


	3. Chapter 3

**Over There and Back Again**

**A Sorcerer's Tale**

Prompt 041: Gargoyle

Author's Ramblings: After my last lame attempt at a prompt (that HotDog lame story, I know) my computer fell to a deep depression and we had to take matter into our own hands (we being: Nanu and Deyhra) and after I (Nanu) cried for about fifteen minutes we were forced to erase the hard drive and re-install windows… thank God I've backed up these files last week if not you would not have heard a word from me again. LOL. So here we are, back in action. I hope you enjoy this piece and … Happy Writing! (Hope no one looses all I've lost information wise *sob sob*)

**Victor Hugo's Vision**

Notre Dame Cathedral was finished in 1345 it had been cause of great celebration but from Balthazar's point of view it deserved none. It was a new church that's all and there were thousands all over Europe; why even bother make one more? But then again he'd always wondered about normal humans. Balthazar had refused to visit Notre Dame for a hundred years later, but the French Clan had called upon him to see if a special child of theirs could be the prime Merlinian. So he traveled to France, expecting good news, and arrived at the particular place where he'll meet his guide.

Jill Delacroix was a gorgeous woman, tall, redhead, green blue eyes and pale skin. Her body was well built and Balthazar had the sightless feeling that she might have used more than just her magic to lure Morganians out of their hiding place. France was currently a better place for sorcerers to live, thanks to the current Clan's members but everyone was praising Jill for her efforts. Balthazar just arched an eyebrow as she approached, wearing a gypsy's outfit and looking so at home it gave him the creeps. Still if he'd been single and she willing to mingle he'd been willing to give her a try. He immediately felt guilty; what would Veronica think of him?

"Mr. Blake?" She asked in a heavy French accent, snapping Balthazar from his thoughts and give a gentle nod. She presented herself, giving a little curtsy and surprising Balthazar, once again. He returned her greeting with a slight bow of his head watching as she smiled. "I have always loved the age you came from, I found it so refreshing to know at least once men were courteous to total strangers."

"Indeed." If she'd only known.

"Please this way." And she pointed towards the large cathedral. Balthazar arched an eyebrow and followed in silence, senses active and ready for any attack. "The child's parents have requested to remain anonymous unless she is the Prime Merlinian their names are not to be revealed."

"I only need to see the child fro now." He reached into his pocket, touching the small dragon statue, as the woman opened the heavy wooden doors. Balthazar followed watching as she cautiously moved through the cathedra and called out for someone. She murmured in French for a while, until suddenly small tentative steps made Balthazar turn. The child was pale, her hair a curly and well kept, her brow eyes looked haunted; Balthazar couldn't help but notice she looked very special. He smiled at the child Jill had not yet noticed the presence and walked slowly towards her. "Hello." He murmured softy, the child smiling at him shyly. "Are you Joan?"

The girl nodded enthusiastically, smiling. "Well Joan, I'm going to show you something and if it likes you, you can keep it."

Again the girl smiled, probably she had not understood a word he'd said, but Balthazar was so used to speaking the words to all the children he'd met and could not help but whisper them. Balthazar produced the item, and showed it to the girl, who stared at the little figurine in awe. He showed her his open palm and she extended her small pale hand, where he placed Merlin's Dragon. Jill noticed them interacting and neared to watch.

Balthazar smiled at the girl, and taking the ring stood and brushed her hair with his hand. "You are a very lovely girl." He whispered, looking down at the girl, who didn't really understand what had happened. Balthazar turned to Jill, shook his head and heard her sigh.

"I'm sorry, sir. We really thought…"

"Nothing to be sorry about, I've been thought this before. Honestly I would have been very surprised if it had worked." A shout for outside was heard and Balthazar turned to the tall wood doors. "What's going on?"

"Jill had picked the girl up and was running to the side of the building, finding a set or stairs and hurrying up. Balthazar followed, confused, and soon was slipping into the bell chamber's at the top of the building. He watched Jill slip easily through the messy terrain, holding the girl close, and Balthazar attempted to follow, steps clumsy and groaning when he almost hit the bells by falling.

"Jill?"

"Shh, they would find us." She said from across the tower, placing the girl inside a hidden door, and closing it. "The Morganians knew we'll be here."

"And you still…?"

"I needed help to get rid of this particular gang!"

"So it was a way of luring me out." Balthazar shook his head, not really surprised. Sighing Balthazar realized something; he ought to become a child again, nothing surprised him anymore. He'd become a bitter old man by the time he let Veronica out and he very much doubter she would like that. The angry shouts echoing from the long flight of stairs snapped him from the musings and he turned to Jill. "How many?"

"About twenty five."

"Armed?"

"Probably."

"Not good." He looked around as the woman stepped in sigh.

"Just give them time; till nightfall."

"Give who time?"

The door slammed open and the shouts died.

"Hide, quickly." He ordered in a murmur, searching for a hiding spot himself. Jill did as told, probably joining the girl's hideout while Balthazar took a deep breath and crouched behind one of the stone gargoyles, assumed a similar position and turned into a growling gargoyle. He only moved when one of the Morganians passed close by, searching, his eyes following the man. The sun was hitting the cathedra's front face, and the glass had become an array of colors shinning with the power of the sun's oranges and reds. Balthazar heard the clouds of thunder rolling behind them, announcing rain, and wished to be able to slip away as soon as nightfall fell so he could somehow ambush the attackers.

One of the Morganians stood beside Balthazar looking down. He spoke in French, letting the others know he had not found neither the women nor Blake, and as soon as he stopped talking, Balthazar rose, hit his jaw in just the right spot that unlocked the jawbone from the skull and as he groaned inwardly, Balthazar kicked him and the man slip down the side of the building and over the bushes below, landing on his back on green. He was still alive. Balthazar crouched again, and turned to see another one of the Morganians looking around. The ropes to ring the bells catch his eyes and Balthazar slid through the shadows towards them, his feet hitting several pipes that were laying about and kicking them and making them roll towards the open hole and roll down the bell's chamber. He'd honestly tried to stop them, but he was only managed to stop one while the others clanked loudly, making the whole gang run around the bells.

Balthazar groaned silently, and scattered to hide. The sun was sinking, and Balthazar realized the numbers had dwindled, so as he hid on top of the bell, holding tightly onto the metal bars that secured the mechanism for the bells, he avoided making any noise. He was still holding the metal pipe; and using all the resources he had his ring started glowing.

The men were talking among themselves, murmuring about the legends of the Notre Dame and its ghosts. Their leader finally stepped out, making Balthazar turn. "If you believe that this forsaken church haunted then leave. If not scatter and find Blake or I'll start throwing men down the sides of the building."

Balthazar should have known Horvath was involved in this whole thing. Annoyed and holding a whip in hand, Balthazar slowly made his way towards the top of the bell, avoiding creating any sound or movement to all that surrounded him. He made his way to the outer sides of the bell and waving the soft material of the metal-turn-whip he wrapped it around one of the Morganian's standing guard beside the bell. He lifted the man, or boy, and knocked him unconscious by hitting him against the ceiling. The crack of his skull echoed, making the others turn. But Balthazar moved to hide again, repeating the process several times with some other Morganians before the sun completely vanished on the horizon.

Fine, now what? If he was supposed to buy them time, who was supposed to help them now?

A scream tore through the night, and Balthazar turned; a roar echoed in the Bell's chambers, and realizing something was up Balthazar slid over the wood and metal around the bell and over the top of the building to look down. He didn't even had to look down; the gargoyles to the side of the tower were lifting its arms; taking larger shapes and wings spreading. Not yet noticed, Balthazar lost his footing and slid down the hole, falling against the bell with a loud clanking sound, the bell moved to the side and let him slide further down, before Balthazar took hold of the rope to ring the bell and with a gasp of fear halted his own fall.

Funny; he couldn't have done magic to save his own life after seeing the gargoyles taking life. He looked up, Jill crying out someone's name, and Balthazar hurried up the rope, with some difficulty. He reached the bell and saw the Horvath fighting with a tall gargoyle that seemed rather angry, while the other Morganians were been swung from side to side or around them. Jill found Balthazar, pulled him over the side of the bell Joan received him on the ground holding him down.

"Told you we've got backup."

"Gargoyles?"

"A whole clan devoted to helping Merlinians and the search for the prime Merlinian. But were stuck to protecting the Cathedral." Answered Jill quickly, smiling smugly. "They were the ones to find Joan." Balthazar tried to stand but a gargoyle pushed him to the ground and started sniffling him, just as Horvath was lifted and flown away. The gargoyle's thick dark eyes stared at him for a second; before letting out a shriek/wail and flying away. Balthazar was paralyzed, and it took both Jill and Joan to get him to stand up. "Sorry about that, they were just checking to see if you are who you claim to be."

Balthazar said nothing, stood up and Joan took hold of his hand. One of the Morganians was dropped on the ground. "We've got to get out of here. Before things get too ugly." Murmured Jill, nodding towards Joan; the child didn't deserve to see men cut in half or ripped open. A man ahead screamed and out the walls the sound of liquid hitting stone was heard; rain started to fall soon after.

"Let's get down then." Agreed Balthazar, taking a deep breath.

"The stairs are blocked." Said Jill, questioning his sanity; Balthazar lifted Joan to piggyback ride, making sure the child was holding tightly, and then took Jill's hand.

"Hang on." And he jumped down the bell's chamber, taking tight hold of the rope the bells started to ring their announcement; it was now ten in the night.

But Balthazar was unaware of a particular detail; a Morganian saw his shadow and thought it was the shadow of another inhabitant of the Cathedral.

"Isn't it simply stunning?" Veronica stood in front of the large cathedral, thick sunglasses covering her eyes from the summer sun as she stared at the tall towers and tried to make out several of the gargoyles perched on the ledges. Balthazar stood beside her, staring down at a pamphlet, reading some of the history of the cathedral. "Is it true there's a hunchback on the towers?"

Balthazar looked up, as Veronica lifted her digital camera, Becky's gift for Veronica's birthday, and snapped a picture. He laughed out loud when he found out he'd been confused for a hunchback that night, stealing away a gypsy girl. The last part he understood, but he; a hunchback? Balthazar turned to Veronica, who was watching him worriedly. "Balthazar are you ok?"

"I need something to drink."

"Water? I think I have a bottle." He lifted his hand, and shook it.

He needed something a bit stronger; Tequila would be a good option. "Can we move on?" Balthazar wanted to move on, he never had found churches fascinating, unlike Veronica. He wanted to go eat something and probably take a nap to then dive into the French Night life alongside his wife.

"Balthazar you've been here a few times but it's my first time here so be patient ok?" Veronica was trying to rain on his parade, walking away to admire the large rose window better, but Balthazar just smiled and followed her.

"Not true I have only visited once; but I got to ring the bells." He commented, following his wife to try and make it up for his impatience.

Author's Ramblings: Cookies to whoever figures out who the little girl Balthazar tested is. Happy writing!


	4. Chapter 4

**Over There and Back Again**

**A Sorcerer's Tale**

Prompt 000: Inquisition

Author's Ramblings: I was reading this awesome crossover Swords and Sorcery and in the conversation Balthazar spoke about his brush with the Inquisition and I said to myself; wouldn't that make a good story. This might not be that good story but I tried; warning it seems a little messy at first but considering this is Balthazar remembering such painful moment randomness and confusion seem necessary (or so I think). Enjoy.

**Inquisition**

The space was filling with hatred and anger, but because of the chains there was no way of fixing things. Balthazar just sat, Indian style, with his back to his cell companion, while his every pore continued to ooze out the anger he felt.

Balthazar had already broken, he was currently awaiting punishment for not repenting of his ways, and he could only sit inside his cell and replay the events in his mind. His clothes were covered in blood both his, and his apprentice's, and his mind was already a chaotic mess of hurt and anger, and pain… Still anger and hatred could pour out like tears.

"So the great Balthazar Blake _can_ cry? At least I got to see you as defeated…"

"Be quiet, Horvath."

Maxim Horvath laughed out loud, not really caring about Balthazar's emotions.

"You no longer matter, fool. What did you expect? You apprentice to give up for you? No on cares for us any longer Balthazar; we've fallen to the annals of history and shall remain there for the rest of our unnatural lives."

Balthazar was too tired to answer.

"I shall escape here, find the Grimhold from the vowels of this disgusting Inquisition's vaults and free Morgana…"

"We've been trapped here for two weeks months, with no ring, in constant torture. What makes you think you are escaping?" Snapped Balthazar angrily, turning to face Maxim's back, the man looked as defeated as Balthazar felt and for a moment there was no answer.

"Unlike you I have connections…"

"Fine. Then get them to pull you out so I can be alone."

"Pitying her death? Fool."

Balthazar knew the man behind him, and he could tell by the tone of his voice that Maxim Horvath had also been broken. Balthazar continuation of torture had already taken place today, and he was tired, so when the guards came into the cell he could close his eyes and relaxed; this time they were here for Horvath. The other man kept his cool, allowing the guards to pull and push him out of the cell and towards the torture chamber. For the next couple of hours it was Maxim's turn to scream and cry, to beg and curse, and for Balthazar to simply rest. This wasn't how things were supposed to go, but once again, when had things gone according to plan?

As usual Horvath had been the one to bring this upon them; hoping to doom Balthazar he'd doomed an entire clan of sorcerers, Merlinian and Morganians alike, to the catacombs of the Inquisition's torture chambers. Yet according to what he'd heard only the two of them were still alive.

Balthazar had witnessed how the inquisitors tortured and then killed his little Clair, the child apprentice who had been so adamant on learning Merlin's art. She had been only fifteen; she still had years in her; her pale beauty, her long dark hair… her elegant stance. God what hurt the most was that she'd looked so much like Veronica.

Balthazar had failed.

He'd failed again and if he did survive this mess he was going to hide in a cave and not come out… Her screams pierced through the fog of his lulled mind, the image of her wide eyes as she lay dead on the sand before him… Balthazar lost it; he screamed in anger and pain, and he might have cried Balthazar needed to get out of here; he had a mission to take care of, a child to find and train, his love to release. He needed to leave this dreadful place and survive.

But how with so much pain cursing through his body?

By the time Horvath returned, now a visibly broken man, Balthazar had retreated into the deepest recess of his mind.

.

The next couple of years were a haze. He'd been saved by someone, Balthazar wasn't sure who, but he'd gotten out of the clan's way by just getting up from his bed and leaving. He'd regained his ring and although he could do magic now he was too destroyed emotionally and physically to do anything, or even acknowledge what surrounded him. He entered the woods and got lost within them. In his coat only the Grimhold and the small box with the dragon ring…

He'd found the cave in the third day of wondering, finally he used magic sealing the cave with a huge boulder and within in he slept.

Balthazar slept for what felt like years, and he wasn't even aware of how long he'd slept, but he woke up and casted a sleeping spell and continued. Huddled in a corner and just… slept.

.

.

Balthazar limped to the lab, groaning as Dave hovered around him, opening door moving heavy objects. It was comforting to see someone worried about him, and especially making things easier for him while injured.

"Ok, man, here. Sit here. I'll go call Veronica."

"No, we'll be fine, just… Get your Encantus. You are learning healing arts now."

Dave tried to protest, but Balthazar was adamant about it; get the Encantus, a bucket of water, and the bandages inside the coat. Balthazar had already peeled the leather and was currently peeling off the thick warm wool sleeves he usually used. Dave got some warm water, found a bottle of alcohol and decided to take it with him, and towels; he carried the items towards the desk where Balthazar rested against. The Encantus levitated towards them and opened.

"Ok, here we go; what do I do?"

"I hate mountain trolls." Murmured Balthazar, unbuttoning his vest and taking it off as well. "Do you know anything about human anatomy?"

"Some yeah."

"I think I got a torn muscle." Balthazar groaned, looked down at his forearm and turned back. "Lesson number one; do not be squeamish." He murmured to himself but mostly at Dave, just as the boy took a look and turned pale. "Lesson number two; always asset the situation with a critical eye."

"That looks painful." Commented Dave, presenting his critical asset of the current situation; Balthazar rolled his eyes.

"Have you any idea how muscles are build?"

"Fibers?"

"Yes, I've always thought of them of woven interlocked fibers. Think of how they should tie up together, how they should… fit together again and do it."

"Do I get a demonstration?"

"The pain won't let me clear my mind. Just do it, if… if you do it wrong at least I'll have less pain to worry about." Finally Balthazar took off his shirt, revealing the skin of his torso, currently covered in blood. Balthazar's arm lay limp to his side, and a thick dark bulge that was not natural seemed to be wrapping over the place his bicep was supposed to be. Dave had to take several breaths in order to turn and look at it, and then steel his nerves to actually touch it. Balthazar let out a groan, biting in pain as Dave just tried to clear his mind.

Dave's ring took its usual green glow, and warmth left his palm; Balthazar started trembling underneath him, just as the energy moved into the skin, and through the pulled muscle. He was in much pain, Dave could tell; he groaned, clenching his teeth, eyes closed tightly, the muscle underneath Dave's palm moved. He could see the fibers connecting, gathering and pulling together actually fixing themselves under the skin.

Finally a loud clack was heard and Balthazar fell to the side of the desk, gasping and groaning.

"Lesson number three; there's no such thing as anesthesia so get used to… to causing pain."

"Did I do alright?"

"You did fine." If it weren't because Dave knew his master he might have through the words were whined out. "Get me a shot of gin; do you know where I keep it?"

"I'll get it. How are you feeling?" There was no coherent answer at first, and then Balthazar lifted and groaned.

"I'll live. I always do." And Dave arrived to his side, carrying the tall bottle and a small glass. "Sit, let's check how you did." With his good arm, Balthazar opened the bottle then poured himself a drink. Dave got one of the small towels wet to clean the blood and offered to Balthazar who shook his head. "I'm afraid you'll have to do it, I could… drop unconscious any moment now."

"Should you be drinking?" And Dave started cleaning his master's arm, finding the skin coarse and although tanned, covered in deep angry scars. He must have done that while attempting healing. "Balthazar I'm sorry I didn't…"

"What?" Balthazar turned and let out a groan. He poured another drink, overflowing the glass and then shaking, lift the gulp of clear liquid. "Don't worry, that wasn't you."

"This scar?" Dave cleaned the shoulder and the top of the well formed back, revealing several more scars, but there was once that ran all the way down the shoulder, around to the back and lower. A bit of skin was missing here and there, scar tissue formed all over the long injuries. "What happened here?"

"The Inquisition." Balthazar said, turning slightly towards his apprentice.

"Which one?" Because yes, there had been several Inquisitions all along the Middle Ages and Dave finally seemed to be doing his reading of the Encantus.

"All of them." Dave stared at him, in awe and surprise and many other things that Balthazar could not recognize, but the master said no more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Over There and Back Again**

**A Sorcerer's Tale**

Prompt 061: Werewolf

Author's Ramblings: This idea had been running around my head since Halloween last year… long time isn't? And it turned out better than I thought it would be, although I feel like I was rambling a bit at the end… Anyway, hoping you'll like it, please remember there's cake and cookies along with tea and/or coffee for reviewers! Happy writing/reading!

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By no mean was Balthazar Blake ever considered a fool.

After all he had not lived for over a thousand years to tell the tale, and remain (slightly) sane. He was set on finishing his quest, he was a strong willed man and a powerful sorcerer that could tear anything or anyone to pieces. The best of all was that he did as he was teach; he used the old methods and so far they had served him very well. Extremely well. Merlin raised no fool and everyone knew this.

But Balthazar Blake could make a fool out of anyone.

Many had called for his help, and Balthazar had disregarded several (false) pleas to continue his quest, but then a rather bizarre thing happened. He received a letter, by hawk, requesting his presence in London. Usually he would have ignored the paper, probably even burned the piece, but something held him back. The letter was written in Latin and the penmanship was unusually clean. Balthazar had never been able to get such smooth letter, not without the help of his former best friend, and seeing this… Well it made him curious.

It was 1834 and he was heading for London, not that he would be staying long, just to find out who had sent the letter and why, then he would probably deny the help and be on his way. Lately, since the hysterics created by the Bathory trials two centuries before, a vampiristic boom had taken place. Balthazar had already lost count on how many vampires he'd had to take down in order to keep himself and some villages alive. He hoped this was not about vampires; he was feed up with vampires. So he walked through the London fog, to the place where he was suppose to meet his contact, and remembering. It appears that only London could bring up sad old memories, yet there were a few that he was glad to remember. Like the time he and Veronica were small and shared the warmth of the wool throw, or that time when she kissed him and then covered both their bodies with a thick clean duvet. Or at least what could be considered a duvet back then.

Anyway the large building he was suppose to meet his contact was an abandoned church. Balthazar didn't remember this place so he watched for a good half hour before daring cross the street, maybe, he'd learned in his time, this was a Morganian trap. But before he could cross the street two things happened: a woman, wearing a thick hooded cloak walked quickly to the inside of the church, struggling with the heavy looking door and the sound of howling was heard.

Why would there be howling here? This was the middle a growing city.

Right?

Not sensing other presences in the vicinity of the tall church Balthazar slid quickly through the London fog, and eased quietly into the building. Quietly as possible Balthazar remained in shadows, and walked around the vaulted ceiling, staring as the woman walked up and down the aisle, apparently nervous. He studied her, the way she seemed to shake, the way her hands clasped together, in nervousness and then in prayer. This woman was desperate, Balthazar could see it, to the point of meeting a total stranger in a church… For what purpose.

"_Bonum vesperum. Ne dicam, nocte_." He said loud enough for the woman to gasp and turn, watching him intently as Balthazar stepped into the light.

"_Bonum vesperum spero_." Her voice was soft, trembling even.

"Were you the one who sent me the letter?"

"Yes."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Gloria. I need your help." The woman irradiated no power, at least not the sorcery type of power. She seemed different, but not dangerous. "My child has been stolen from me and my husband…" The wizard turned, interrupting her.

"I'm sorry but I must refuse, currently I'm very busy with my quest." Balthazar was not interested in stolen children, only in special children. Maybe, when things settled and he had his own children with veronica he might come to understand her desperation but for now…

"A wizard has taken him!" That got Balthazar to stop and turn towards her, eyes slightly narrowed.

"Why would a wizard steal your child?"

"He's very special."

"How old is this child?"

"A year and a half." A special child, so young?

"In what way is he special?" The woman smiled, enigmatically, eyes turning away.

"He's a werewolf."

Balthazar could tell he was paling.

"The first born of the leader of our clan, I am his selected mate and mother to the child."

Balthazar lifted his hand, not wishing to hear anymore and turned to sit on the broken down chairs. "And when was he stolen?"

"Two moons ago."

Two months. The child could be dead by now. "I'm sorry lady but your child…"

"We know who has the child and our only consolation is that he's alive because the spell requires the child to have undergone through his first transformation." Balthazar looked up at her. "What will happen in two days."

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The last clue they've had of the child's whereabouts had been, amazingly enough, within the London tower. Apparently some students had thought it a clever hiding place and for now the only ones who dared enter the place at night were either heartless politicians or the keepers of the tower. But during the night the rumors of ghosts and hunted images were present and not even the keepers dared leave their quarters at such a late hour. Balthazar had been studying the place from the outside, and found an open window, using a line and hook, enchanted to grasp tightly the stone he climbed and gathered the items, not whishing to alert anyone of his presence.

As he did so he looked around the large room, noticing he was in a study of some sort. Saving the hook and line, now miniaturized, in his coat, Balthazar walked towards the nearest door and unlocked it from it's hinges, a trick he'd been forced to used a lot this days, and walked quietly through the dark hallway. No living soul could be heard, but there were two or three ghosts moaning and roaming around. Balthazar ignored them, unable to do a thing for them (at least not yet) and moved down a set of large stairs. The tower was larger than he remembered.

The sound of chanting was heard a few meters below, and so he followed it; chanting in these particular cases was never good. And indeed, two floors down, he found a large Morganian pentagram drawn on the floor, with several hooded figures chanting around it. In the middle an altar, with the baby crying and trying to move but unable to because of the thick chains wrapped around his ankles and wrists. He looked cold, was wet, and was in a mess hay and cloths. Even if this child was a werewolf, these people had no right to treat him so badly; but oh right, they were Morganians.

Balthazar took in a deep breath; four apprentices, he could tell by the way they were chanting the words wrong, and a master, who seemed to busy with his own power to notice the other's gone wrong. Balthazar studied the little gathering, considering how to overthrown them.

"Ok this is nuts man, what are we suppose to be doing again?"

"Fool! You've interrupted the most important part!"

"Yeah sure, sorry, I keep forgetting you have everything under control. But what are we doing anyway, you haven't explained?"

"The blood of this child will give us power during full moons, don't you see?"

Balthazar listened, from his hiding place, as the most stupid of explanations was given. According to their master, drinking the blood of the child will enhance their powers during full moon, and serve as conduit to summon a demon from hell; Zoalmergustar. Balthazar had never heard of such demon, and was pretty sure it was a made up name. maybe this wouldn't be as difficult as he initially thought.

The chanting resumed and an idea started to run through Balthazar's head. Maybe he could fool these morons into handing the child back.

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Fire erupted from the stairs as the men and women continued chanting; some gasped and a particularly chubby woman let out a scream. Fire erupted around the large stone chamber and within the next few minutes the color of the fire changed, from red to blue, to green and finally to gray.

"Who Dares Interrupt my Slumber!" Cried Balthazar in a booming voice, as the image he was creating of a large demonic figure, wrapped in shadows lifted both arms and looked down at the chanting men and women. The chanting stopped and the Morganian Master fell to his knees.

"Oh my lord Zoalmergustar! Finally you live!"

Ok so the man knew… who was Balthazar kidding? He was the one who named this fake demon!

The apprentices started running around, as Balthazar lifted, still invisible to the master who was bowing and praising his lord, and saw the child still waving and crying over the stone altar. Balthazar voiced his desire to have the child, the image leaning to try and pick the boy up.

"No wait my lord! I have not bled him for you!" And the master Morganian tried to move to the child, knife in hand to kill him.

"No!" Balthazar had to admit he had freaked out at the moment, making several of the apprentices frown. "I shall eat this child whole." Was all Balthazar could think of, image finally wrapping it's hands around the baby.

The door closer to Balthazar opened and a young man entered the room, putting on his cloak and talking; "I'm so sorry guys; my mom wouldn't let me leave so I had to sneak out of the hou…" Everyone turned to the boy, the demon image, the chanting apprentices and master, and Balthazar. The boy was lanky, with dark long hair and green eyes. He asset the situation before him and pointed at Balthazar. "Who are you?"

Balthazar stood up to full height, pushing the boy with a powerful thrust spell and the gray fire around him and the image of the demon turned back to red, wrapping round the walls. The baby who was still in midflight, was levitated quickly towards Balthazar, and once he had it in his arms he hurried out the door.

"Get them!" Cried the Morganian, as Balthazar ran through the long dark hallways. The baby continued to cry in his arms, cold and shivering. The steps of his persecutors filled Balthazar's ears and lost within the London Tower he had to wonder: why was a Morganian pentagram under the tower?

"There he is!"

"Not good." Balthazar ran into a room, locking and sealing the dark space from the apprentices, and hurried to the window. Below all that could be seen was water, and the wind that hit him was cold. He could survive no problem, but the child… The sound of howling wolves snapped him awake and he searched about, no sign of the werewolves that were suppose to be helping him. "Dammit." Forgetting about warmth, considering the child still wailing in his arms, Balthazar unwrapped the scarf from around his neck, and wrapped the child, that seemed to be soothed as warmth reached him. "There, there. I'm sure you'll get warmer soon enough. Problem is how am I to deliver you to your parents?"

His concentration as broken by a second longer, closer, howl; the door was shattered open and turning Balthazar faced the several apprentices. As they neared him they snarled and laughed, considering how to kill the witness of their little gathering; until the master arrived smirking.

"Well, well; if it isn't Balthazar Blake. Master Horvath will be very much pleased when I hand him over the Grimhold and your head."

Balthazar smiled.

"Really? You think you can?"

"We are eight, and you are holding a baby. There is no escape."

"Have you any idea who this child is? Have you any idea what you've brought upon yourselves?"

The master stared at Balthazar, not answering, but seeming confused.

"I am not here to defeat you, or even fight you; I am here merely to take the child and deliver him to his mother."

"You are not leaving this room alive, Blake."

"I beg to differ. My companions have other plans."

Growling, intense deep loud growling made master and apprentices turn, fear evident as fully mature and transformed werewolves slid from the shadows to surround the Morganians. Balthazar watched the clan's head fighters corner the men and women, and found a path to freedom by circling the whimpering crowd and the werewolves. He hated to flee, especially leaving this particular crowd to die, but there was no way he could convince his companions to let the sorcerers live. Balthazar had tried, not begging of course, he'd used reason, sense, sensibility; but the clan's leader's child had been in danger, who could guarantee the other children will not be harmed? So Balthazar hurried out to the hallway, just as the growls intensified and the screaming became loud, and hurried out the London tower.

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Gloria was kneeling before the broken down altar, obviously praying for the plan to have worked when Balthazar entered the old church. The child in his arms was now warm, but had not gone to sleep. Probably he was also hungry, although quiet about it.

"_Habes pulcherrimum puerum_."

The woman gasped and turned, Balthazar was walking towards her child waving his little hands in the air, Gloria hurried towards him, and took the child; whimpering as tears slid down her face. "Thank you."

"I think he is hungry, and if you have a change of clothes…"

"Gloria!" They turned, there running towards them and changing from his werewolf to his human form was a tall man drenched in sweat and some blood. Balthazar stood aside lifting is hands to show he was no threat to either child or woman, but if his actions did not prove him a friend… The child let out a happy cry, cooing.

"He's got strong lungs." Said the man, as the woman wrapped her own scarf and cloak around the child.

"He'll need them." Commented Balthazar, smiling. The couple turned to him, the woman nodding as the man regained his coarse usual frown.

"I have no way of thanking you."

"There is no need, if I had been in the same situation… Honestly I wouldn't have known what to do."

"Then our clan shall consider you a friend; if you are ever in such situation, or any that might need our help don't hesitate in asking."

Balthazar gave a quiet nod and with a quiet smile left.

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"The new generation?" Asked the voice coming from the darkness, making Dave jump and turn, just as Balthazar gave a soft chuckle and turned. "Who would have thought the Blake would actually have a child of his own."

Balthazar turned, smiling. Dave whimpered, taking a step back as the tall man with dark features and green eyes moved towards Balthazar, standing a good distance from them. "Boy, have you grown."

"Father said you might comment about that."

"You were nothing but a baby last I saw you. I see they've been feeding you well."

"Lately, yes." The man circled both Balthazar and Dave, who was looking as nervous as a cockroach before a crowd of chickens. "I am here to deliver a gift. Mother made it actually."

"Really? What might that be?" The man extended his hand, once he had returned to stand before Balthazar, and the sorcerer had to laugh out loud. In the man's hand a thick green scarf, just like the one Balthazar had used to wrap him with, waited. "Well, thank you. Dave,"

"What?" Dave hitched out, staring at his master.

"Would you mind?" Asnwered Balthazar softly, smiling.

"What?" Dave's voice was now highly pitched; the young nerd did not want to come in contact with the werewolf.

"Take it." Murmured Balthazar harshly. Nervously so, Dave reached forward and when he was about to take the scarf the man grabbed his wrist and pulled the clothes to his ear, Dave could have fainted, but didn't, instead he paled and started sweating; a long stutter left him.

"Your magic is imprinted all over this boy."

"Prime Merlinian."

"Ah, then sir, consider yourself friend to our clan as well." And finally Dave was released, scarf in hand. Balthazar smiled at Dave, who was having troubles breathing and then turned to the man.

"Would you like to get a closer look?" Amazingly enough the man nodded, and shyly so (Balthazar had to smile at that) the man took a few steps closer and Balthazar leaned. With his free hand Balthazar pulled the warm wool around the baby in his arms, showing the werewolf his little Victoria; her gorgeous blond hair, her big eyes and pale skin.

"It's good she took after her mother." Balthazar chuckled.

"Yes, indeed." Balthazar smiled, as the baby cooed and reached forward to touch the man's hand. "Victoria seems to like you."

"Well, I am friendly." And to that Balthazar had to laugh. "I better go; I don't want to put you or your child in danger."

"Believe me; it'll take more than your presence to put us in danger."

"Either way." He gave little Victoria a little touch to her nose, making her giggle, and pulled away. "Farewell friends."

Dave waved goodbye to the man, watching as he slipped into shadows, and turned to find Balthazar covering little Victoria up with the warm wool. "What was that about?"

"Nothing, just some old friends dropping by. Let's go home."

As they started to walk away the sound of a howl was heard.

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Author's Ramblings: In one of my other fics I mentioned Balthazar spoke/read/wrote Latin fluidly, thing why the letter was written in Latin. Here the phrases used in the story, forgive me if they are wrong, I do not know Latin and this came from the Google page…

"_Bonum vesperum. Ne dicam, nocte_." Good evening, or should I say, night.

"_Bonum vesperum spero_." Good evening, I hope.

"_Habes pulcherrimum puerum_." You have the most handsome child.


End file.
